


Nightcap

by griever11



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: 2x06, Angst, Friendship, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 19:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griever11/pseuds/griever11
Summary: Tag to 2x06. Wyatt's waiting for Lucy when she exits Flynn's room. They have a conversation.





	Nightcap

She stumbles out of Flynn’s room in a daze, not quite drunk but definitely not sober either. Turns out she hadn’t been the only one hiding booze in their room, and between her half-empty bottle of vodka and his flask of questionable unlabeled alcohol, she’s just…

Off-centre.

Tipsy.

And that’s something Lucy Preston, queen of needing to be in control all the time, is very not comfortable with. Especially when she’s still unsure about Flynn and whether she can trust him with well… anything.

So when he finally nods off in the middle of regaling her with some dumb, probably exaggerated tale of his Rittenhouse related time-traveling adventures, she peels herself off his ratty couch and makes her way out of his room.

She turns to face his door as she exits, fingers turning the knob slowly, making an effort to shut the door gently because okay, she’s tipsy but she’s still going to be considerate and try not to wake the rest of the bunker with unnecessary noise the way  _some_   _other_ people do.

Huh.

She frowns at the stray thought. Uncalled for, Lucy. Don’t be a jerk. They’re your friends. Or Wyatt is, at least. Even though that’s kind of debatable at the moment. And Jessica… friend of a friend? Acquaintances? Sure. And they're married. They have every right to do married people things. 

Ugh.

She does not want to go there. Doesn't want to think about her. Or him. Or them. She's better off keeping those thoughts locked away in that corner of her heart she's not allowed to touch because if she does, it will open up a gaping, melancholy hole of _what could have beens_ and _if onlys_ and _what ifs_.

Which is not what she wants to think about when she's half-drunk and tired and has to sleep on a tiny couch because she let her cute, nerdy friends have her single bed because she's nice and -

“What were you doing in there?”

Her hand flies to her chest, startled, and she twists around on the balls of her feet. Her eyes bug out when she realises who the voice belongs to.

“Wyatt! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

He’s still in the same clothes he’s worn all evening, black on black, a little grimy from whatever he’d been up while he’d been benched from time traveling. But the look on his face is a far cry from easy smile he’d sported earlier in the evening when he’d asked about her day.

He’s frowning, lines etched into his face like he’s trying very hard not to look like he’s upset. He fixes her with an unscrutinisable stare which draws her attention to the twitch in the corner of his eye. Yeah, he’s definitely not pleased with her.

“Have you been in there all night?” he asks again.

She folds her arms defensively over her chest, arches an eyebrow at the antagonism in his voice. “Why are you spying on me, and if I was in there all night, what's it to you?”

Wyatt blinks as if he hadn’t expected her answer, but then schools his features before she can glean any meaning from it. “Are you sure that’s smart? We don’t even know if we can trust him, Lucy.”

“I told you before, he came through for us -”

“This time,” he interrupts. “Doesn’t mean he’s suddenly on our side. You need to be more careful with him.”

Her skin prickles with irritation. “Wyatt, I can take care of myself. It was just a post-mission drink, if you must know. No big deal.”

She nudges past him, bumping his shoulder as she navigates her way down the hallway. She hears the telltale footfalls behind her and she grits her teeth in annoyance. A confrontation with Wyatt while she’s not completely sober is absolutely not how she wanted to end her day.

“No big deal?” Wyatt calls out, his voice, tainted with disbelief echoing around her. She winces at the volume and hopes that he hasn’t woken anyone else up. God knows the last thing she needs is everyone waking up and judging her for wanting just one stupid night to let her hair down a little.

She makes it to the team’s makeshift living room, takes one look at the lumpy couch and truly regrets letting Jiya and Rufus have her room.

She turns around to face Wyatt, resignation in her bones.

“Look, it’s late. I’ve had a bit to drink and I don’t feel like arguing with you right now, so if you don’t mind?”

“Lucy, please I don’t understand -”

She cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“Wyatt, go back to bed. To Jessica.”

She levels him with a pointed stare. She knows it’s not fair to keep bringing her up in their conversations, but she really doesn’t want to talk to him at the moment, and she’s realised that it’s usually the quickest way to shut him down.

It takes _so much_ out of her during the day to pretend that it doesn’t slowly kill her every second she has to live knowing that the moment Jessica came back into the picture, she'd lost him. To pretend that she isn’t being swallowed whole by regret and ever-present sadness every time she catches a glimpse of them together, sharing secrets and smiles like long lost lovers.

Which, technically, they are, her traitorous brain adds. 

And it doesn’t help that Jessica is, in fact, a lovely person. Someone who arguably deserves Wyatt’s undivided attention now that they’ve both been given a second chance on their love affair. Someone who should get to know the man Wyatt is today, the man he's become.

And Lucy, well.

She’s just the poor sucker caught in the middle.

It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

On a normal day, she shoulders it all with false bravado and steel in her blood because she has to. Because Rittenhouse is dangerous and her mother is psychotic and yeah, being able to time travel back in history is literally all her dreams coming true, so she can sufficiently distract herself from all the Jessica baggage.

But nothing about tonight is normal.

Having a post _yay-we-just-saved-history_ nightcap with Flynn isn’t normal. Being drunk and facing an entire night sleeping on the God-awful couch in the near freezing living room of the bunker is not. Freaking. Normal. 

So yeah, she really doesn’t need Wyatt stalking her, questioning her actions, rubbing more salt into her already gaping wounds carved into her heart.

“Why must you keep bringing Jessica up?” Wyatt asks almost petulantly. “It’s you and me now, like before. You can talk to me, you don't have to go to _Flynn._ " He spits the name out like a curse. "Why won’t you talk to me anymore?”

Wow.

_Wow._

She’s so tired of this.

So tired of him being nice and charming, and genuinely concerned about her, until harsh reality sets in when he goes back to his wife and _she’s_ the one left with the painful, haunting memories of the split second they had together.

She takes a step closer to him as anger simmers under her skin. Everything that’s been weighing down on her spills from her lips like she’s freefalling off a cliff of remorse and repressed grief and she can’t stop. Part of her doesn’t want to, and she's so blaming it on Flynn's stupid concoction.

“Because, Wyatt, it’s most definitely _not_ just you and me anymore,” she hisses. “Not since you brought your wife down here without so much as a discussion with anyone else on the team. Without thinking about anyone else but yourself.”

Her voice drops to a whisper. “Not since you chose her instead of me.”

She ignores the way Wyatt flinches at her words and turns her back to him. She slumps down on her couch, her makeshift bed for the night, and rests her elbows on her knees, sinking her forehead into the palms of her hands.

Her chest aches like invisible hands are tightening around her heart, squeezing harder with every second that passes by. She suspects most of it is due to the alcohol, because she usually has a better handle on herself than this. She's better at hiding it, at the very least.

Damn the alcohol.

“Lucy, that’s not fair,” Wyatt says, sounding so helpless and broken that she wants to stand up and give him the biggest hug she can muster.

But she can’t bear to look at him right now, not when she’s as emotionally compromised as she is. So she stays seated, head in her hands, hoping maybe Wyatt will leave if she doesn’t respond.

Unfortunately for her of course, he’s as stubborn as a mule and makes no move to go back to his room. She can hear him shuffle his feet back and forth as if he can’t decide whether to stay standing where he is, or to come closer.

Then he speaks again, a little hesitant, words tinged with what she thinks might be sorrow. “I know this isn’t ideal, I _know_. But… what am I supposed to do? What can I do to make this better? For us to go back to... before?”

A bitter laugh escapes from her lips unbidden.

“Before?” she scoffs. Then shakes her head. “No, I actually understand. I get it, Wyatt. I get why you made the choice you did. You've  dedicated so much time to getting her back. Now you have a second chance at what you lost and you’re making the most of it. _I get it_.”

“But you can’t choose to make things work with her, _and_ have us go back to the way we were before. _That's_ not fair. To me, or to Jessica.”

She finally twists around to face him, hoping her face doesn’t betray the hurricane of emotions currently swirling inside her. Instead, she steels herself, draws her lips into a thin line, determined to make her point clear.

“I’ve lost my sister and my mother chasing after Rittenhouse - or the mother I that I knew anyway, and I would give everything just for a chance to see them again. Even for a _second_. And you lost Jessica. Now you have her back and want to make the most of it, and that’s your right. But you can’t…”

Lucy sighs, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she opens them again. “You can’t expect me feel the same way as you do about this. Not when… not after _everything_. I’m happy for you, Wyatt, I really am. But you need to give me some time to just be _un_ happy for me. And if that means I want to have a drink with Flynn to unwind, then that’s my choice. Do you understand?”

She watches as his expression shifts, eyebrows furrowing, lips turning into a slight frown. He’s rubbing his hands against his pants, looking so much like a lost little boy that all of sudden she wonders if she’s overplayed her hand.

If she’s made some gargantuan error in unearthing all these feelings that she’s previously managed to keep at bay so well.

But then Wyatt nods once, quick and sharp and takes a step back. The smile he gives her is a sad one, but genuine nonetheless.

“I understand,” he says roughly. He runs his hand through his hair, and nods again like he's made a decision with himself. “For what it’s worth, once you think you've had enough time, if you ever need me, or if Flynn turns out to be a crappy listening buddy, I’m here. Okay?”

Lucy exhales in relief. Shoots him a smile in return. “Okay, Wyatt.”

She doesn’t watch him as he walks away because, well, self-preservation and all that. Instead she falls ungracefully onto the couch, pulls up the too thin, scratchy blanket up to her shoulders and clenches her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep.

As she drifts off, she realises that despite how uncomfortable the entire exchange with Wyatt had been, she actually feels lighter for it. More free. Less tangled up in the murky grey areas of what her exactly her relationship with Wyatt is.

So maybe things can never be the same between them, and yeah, she’s still definitely hurting, but it’s clear he still cares for her, and she for him. And once she gets past the weirdness of it all, once she learns how to be less awkward around _them_ , she hopes maybe they can all be friends.

Yeah.

Friends.

She can work with that. 

Maybe. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did not intend to write this, but here we are. Dipping my toes into the Timeless fandom. Hope you enjoyed :) 
> 
> Twitter: @estheryam


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